


Under The Mountain, Inside My Heart

by CameToWin



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Femdom, Forced Bi, Mild torture, Pegging, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, masochist!Rhysand, maybe???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameToWin/pseuds/CameToWin
Summary: Rhysand is unable to forget the things Amarantha did to him under the mountain, or what they revealed about himself.***Mind the tags
Relationships: Amarantha/Rhysand (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Under The Mountain, Inside My Heart

I stood on a balcony just beyond the invisible walls of magic that protect the Night Court, breathing deeply in the chill air. Sweat still stood on my skin despite the frigid temperature; I had just bedded my mate, leaving her sated and sleeping in our bed. I however was...I was also satisfied. I found my release, of course. There was no one as delightful, as tempting, as perfect as my high lady.

Amarantha was Feyre’s opposite in every way. She towered over me, both physically and mentally. There was nowhere I could go where she truly wasn’t. Not when she held the fate of myself and all I loved in her taloned hands. 

My bed was, of course, farthest from safe. As soon as the high lords of Prythian were under her power she told me I had a special honor. I would be high guard of her bedchamber. 

Her smile was blood red and vicious, and she laughed like she was jesting. The joke was not her words but the fact that within weeks I had gone from a High Lord to playing the part of a kept man. 

At first I intended to excel at the role. Amarantha would not have time to think I was plotting against her if she was happily worn out from my skilled attentions. I went to her bed as close to willing as I could appear. 

Amarantha was a beautiful woman. I never saw her in disarray. Always perfectly coiffed, always wearing something simple and slick and richer than cream. Even in the throes of passion she was never more than artfully tousled. I thought I would have to picture others to get myself through the deed, but my body responded to Amarantha’s beauty as easily as any other. 

I despised her. Naturally. Without hesitation. With every breath I drew.

And with every adamant assertion that I despised her, her scent, powdery and metallic, a strange amalgamation of blood and dried flowers, began to work more power over me. 

There was a night-a vile ‘party’ in a blurry sea of thousands-that I retired early. I had no ulterior motive in it. I wanted to sleep, and I hoped somewhere in the back of my mind that perhaps I would have another of those dreams. They were as vague and distorted as any other dream, but they clung to me like real memories when I awoke. I had only just begun to have them, could not put a name to my suspicion of their origin even to myself, but I caught myself counting down the hours till i could sleep and, perchance, dream. 

I did have such a dream that night. A hazy blend of muted colors, that suddenly began to rush, drawing me forward. They ran past me and their edges began to sharpen, hopefully to focus. 

My eyes opened to find Amarantha above me. She had somehow straddled me in my sleep. I felt sure that a warrior such as myself could never allow an enemy to come so close, even in my sleep.

I closed my eyes again. 

“Please, my lady, even the most faithful servant can tire.”

“You may be as tired as you wish, Rhysand. Take no notice of me.” 

I kept my eyes closed as Amarantha ran her fingers over me. Not even her fingers, merely the razor sharp tips of her nails. Not to scratch, just to apply the feather light pressure that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. It was such a slight thing, yet it sent chills over my body. 

I forced my breaths to be slow and even. It was not a honorable way out, but I thought perhaps I could sleep through whatever Amarantha intended for me. We had fucked many times at that point. I thought I was accustomed to it; The warmth of her body, the sound of her breath, the way she would run her hand up the back of my neck, grip my hair by the roots and twist viciously, urging me to spend as hard as I could. 

I tried to ignore the fact that I often did.

Amarantha dug her nails in, bringing me to full consciousness and drawing red lines down my torso. 

“Don’t pretend you can escape me, Rhysand. Just float away from this.” Amarantha laughed and sat back on her haunches, the generous curve of her ass pressing just above my dick, which was slowly rising. 

Merely readying itself for what I knew was coming, of course.

“It’s such a Night Court way of doing things, believing in an illusion until it almost seems real.” Amarantha traced a nail over my chest, circling my nipple, smiling when it obediently peaked at her touch. 

I suppressed the shudder that rose in me. 

“I may have chosen you for this office because of how you wronged me, but understand that if you hadn’t appealed to me so, I would have gotten rid of you by now.”

“I wouldn’t serve you to dispatch me.”

“Which is why I wouldn’t have done it.” Her teeth glinted red in the slight firelight playing over her form. “I would have you bound down there in the camps, nude, free to use for anyone who so chose. The high lord of the Night Court, ravaged beyond repair? It would be a truly beautiful sight.”

Her words sent heat through me. To be cast so low, degraded so, it was a disgusting thought, and it stuck in my skin like a burr.

“My lady,” I purred, “Are you trying to pay me a compliment?”

“I give you leave to think of it as such. I’m not sure if you should find pride in being a man who enjoys pain, but it would certainly help you.”

I scoffed. “I am no such thing.” I had heard of such people. Those who believed that a gentle love bite simply wasn’t enough. It was preposterous, wanting to feel genuine pain when you could receive all manner of pleasure in a lover’s arms instead. 

Amarantha paused and her head tilted slightly, as though she was considering something.

Without warning she gripped my nipples and twisted them. 

I howled. The pain electrified my body, forced me to claw at her hands though I knew such an act was useless at best and insubordination at worst. 

“You bitch,” I gritted through clenched teeth. 

Amarantha released me, and I fell back onto the mattress, shaking slightly. She resumed running her nails over me, the sensation almost a caress compared to that savage pinch. 

“Don’t lie, Rhysand It’s such an ugly look on you.”

“I’m not lying, I’m simply not-” I was going to say ‘as depraved as you’, and I suppose I’m glad I didn’t. I couldn’t finish my sentence because she rolled her hips back and found my dick, fully hard and immediately twitching against her ass. 

Amarantha threw her head back and laughed. Her laugh will haunt me forever. I could hear the endless echo of it even then. 

“Let me show you something,” She said, climbing down my body so she could sit at the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

I had no choice, though I wasn’t sure how she wanted me to arrange myself. I decided to get off the bed and stand before her. That usually pleased her.

That night she shook her head and released a sigh that I had disappointed her. She patted her lap. “Come, sit.”

I moved to straddle her, but she pushed my legs away, forcing me to sit in her lap, my thighs horizontal while hers were vertical. 

The placement was so strange I honestly wasn’t sure what she wanted. 

She used my own power against me. Though a shoddy imitation of my powers, it shocked me enough that I was still processing it when she used the shadows to flip me over so I lay across her, face down, my ass in her lap. 

Perhaps I should have put it together a second before it began, but this was not the sort of punishment meted out to the future high lord of the Night Court very often. 

I was in complete shock when the first blow fell, the surprise completely overpowering the pain. The stinging sensation that rolled up my body as a strike may roll along a bell had just begun to register when she spanked me again. 

The blows fell hard and fast, and I do not know how long they continued, only that I was gripping the bed sheet by the end of it, my eyes prickling with tears. I was unable to control my breath, which alternated gasps and sobs, nor my cock, which was trapped between my stomach and Amarantha’s thigh, where it jerked with each slap of her hand. I could even feel the pool of precome staining her dress. Any movement I made seemed to rub me against her and sent jolts of pleasure through my body. 

Amarantha patted my head. 

“I know you don’t have a better nature, but you need to understand that the truth could serve you better here.”

Then she unceremoniously rolled me off her lap and on to the floor. She left the room with no attempt to relieve either of us. I lay there, waiting for the cold, hard floor to dampen my arousal. 

It took an excruciating amount of time. 

After that Amarantha became more and more clear that she believed her love of torture and her love of my body were compatible with each other. 

The worst was not the day she first breached me from behind. It was a small mercy, but for once I did not respond to the pain. This displeased Amarantha and she left my backside so raw and bloody it must have looked like a side of beef. But I felt a certain satisfaction that there were some ways my body could not betray me.

Until, of course it did. 

Amarantha had tried multiple times to use me like a woman, but when she couldn’t wring any tortured pleasure from me, she often gave up in a huff. 

Until the night she brought me down to one of her favorite chambers. She had many specially for torture, hundreds if you counted the labrynth under the mountain where she kept so many defenseless fae, which I did. 

I often avoided accompanying her when she wished to bring a creature agony. I knew I was helpless to protect many, but witnessing it firsthand was all too visceral of a reminder. 

Still, when Amarantha ordered me to come I could not refuse. Not just because if I had I might find myself strapped to a marble slab. I couldn’t have Amarantha suspecting how much I cared for innocents. Amarantha had long since abandoned any care for others based on their intense emotion and intelligence, the fact that they were born naked and hungry, just as she was. 

The man on the table was no high fae, but he must have had a touch of the blood in him. He looked vaguely aquatic, with the sallow skin and powerful physic expected of someone who spends his days cutting powerfully through water. 

There was fear in his eyes, and no visible marks on him, meaning Amarantha hadn’t begun. Only those who haven’t been through hell can fear it. After that you know fear becomes as useless a sensation as pleasure.

“Rhysand, I know you’ve been having so much trouble enjoying our time together, so I give you a choice: You can learn to enjoy me penetrating you, or you can penetrate him.”

“Rape him, you mean.”

Amarantha would never do something so vulgar as roll her eyes. Instead she looked at me the way one might look at a child, off about something pointless, waiting for me to get over my tedious little qualm and answer her question. 

“You may do whatever you want to me,” I said, because I would not stoop to her level, not even if my pride was on the line. 

Amarantha flicked a hand at me. “Disrobe.” 

Instead of watching me she crossed to the young fae and idly touched his chest. His eyes darted from me to Amarantha, but he had the sense to stay silent. 

I tried not to think about him. It was one thing for everyone to know that I was Amarantha’s whore, but someone actually witnessing it made my skin prickle though the air was warm. My nipples tightened painfully as I pulled my shirt and undershirt off in one motion.

“He’s pretending he doesn’t care if you find him attractive,” Amarantha whispered to the fae, loud enough for me to hear. 

She raked her nails down his skin. He screamed, though it seemed to be more shock than pain. She hadn’t even broken his skin. 

“I don’t see how I can enjoy myself while he’s screaming like that,” I said, trying to sound dismissive, as though I didn’t care for the man one way or the other. 

“Really?” Amarantha ranked her claws down his flank, carving bloody lines into his chest, setting blood pouring down his sides. His shriek of pain echoed in the small room.

Amarantha smiled. “I can.”

She gestured for me to approach her, nails flicking blood to the floor in glimmering drops. The smell was already overwhelming and she’d merely cut the man. Perhaps the blood in her scent never was hers, just something she always carried with her. 

I walked towards her, but she stepped sideways and put her hand on the back of my neck, angling me so I was leaning forward, hands flat on the marble. I was looking down at the fae’s chest, rather than his face. The well defined muscles of his torso spasmed as he struggled, somehow trying to get away from the pain. 

Amarantha’s fingers were at my ass. Gaspingly sharp, slick with blood. She had two inside of me before I could so much as brace myself. Not that she ever waited for my comfort. But that night they went in more easily than before. 

I kept my arms locked, my breathing steady. I focused on the torn skin before me, the way the blood smeared over the undamaged flesh. 

Amarantha twisted her fingers and I began to sweat. For once the primary sensation from her ministrations wasn’t pain. 

I fought to keep quiet. Flames rippled up my back, warmth spreading through my body. My cock began to ache in a way it hadn’t since I was a young boy who hadn’t yet worked out how to bring himself off. 

Amarantha pressed a third finger inside of me. I could feel the stretch of the breach, and it was not bad. It worsened that ache, made it deeper. 

Suddenly Amarantha curled her fingers and pleasure struck me like a lightning strike. I did not know I had cried out until I heard it echo off the walls. 

“Beautiful,” Amarantha breathed. 

I may have imagined that. Amarantha was not one to praise anyone. 

My hands trembled, slick against the marble.

And then her fingers were gone. Nothing but emptiness in their wake. 

I was foolish enough to think she was satisfied. 

I closed my eyes, gasped for breath-and gasped again when Amarantha’s fingers were replaced with something much thicker. It nudged at my entrance, slick and slightly warm. I wondered if Amarantha had kept the dildo secreted about her person so I picked up her body heat. 

“You know,” Amarantha said conversationally, “This is about the same size as yours.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my head muddled enough that I thought I might actually get an answer. 

“Because I can. And I couldn’t ddn’t want you to fuck him without knowing what it felt like yourself.”

My eyes opened, struggling to focus on the body before me. The fae was shaking his head, whimpering slightly. 

“You said I wouldn’t have to.”

“I said you had a choice. And now I will give you another one.”

Amarantha gripped me by the scruff of my neck and pulled me to the end of the table where the fae’s legs were strapped down. Amarantha flicked her fingers at the straps and gripped the fae by his ankles. In one smooth motion she pulled him down the slab and the straps tightened around his thighs. 

The binding on the fae’s wrists had stretched, but not quite far enough. His back arched, squirming and sobbing as he tried to gain some measure of comfort. Blood rolled down his sides, dripping onto the marble

“Don’t worry,” Amarantha said in a tone that scraped over my ears, “I’ll put him back once you’re done.”

Perhaps there was some way out of the situation. Perhaps if I hadn’t been thinking with my dick I could have found a way to save his honor and my pride. But when I looked down and saw that Amarantha had already prepared the fae to recieve me, his entrance wet and slightly stretched, perched at the edge of the table at just the right height-I thrust into him, desperately telling myself that finishing quickly would at least remove a modicum of his pain. 

Then Amarantha thrust inside of me, pulling a groan from my throat. The pressure at the base of my dick was unbearable, at the same time it was soothed by the wet heat enveloping it. 

Amarantha set the pace of our thrusts, slow but powerful. Pleasure spiraled through me, so strong even the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Orgasm gripped me so hard I couldn’t breath, merely gape at the ceiling, stars I had not seen in years flashing over my eyes as my body screamed with release. 

I draw in the cold air surrounding me, feeling it deep inside my lungs, aware of it entering me as I never am in warmer months. 

As I made love to my mate tonight, I did not act alone. 

Amamrantha was with me. I felt her hand over mine as I guided myself into Feyre. She wrapped her arms around my chest as I thrust, murmuring how beautiful Feyre is, “In her clumsy human way.” She traced her fingers over my nipples, rocked her hips against my own, controlling my speed, sending chills along my spine. She even reached for Feyre, urged me to cut the sweetest parts, where her blood would flow most freely. 

“She is so much like you, Rhysand, perhaps she would enjoy that as well.”

I felt her there, I did. Her breath ghosted over my skin, her scent wrapped around me as surely as her arms. She smelled of blood, she always tasted of it, she drew it from my own skin. To approach Amarantha was to wade through a crimson river, to make love to her was to be bathed in gore. 

And, stars help me,  _ I liked it. _

I gazed up at the frigid stars, trying to will the sensation away, knowing it was not possible.

I ached for her, ache still in a way that no mere climax can soothe.

Amamrantha is no longer under the mountain but if you cleaved me open and reached past my ribs it is possible you would find her lounging on a miniature throne directly under my heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's two am already just take this


End file.
